


Fractured

by Calvi_sama, Madisuzy



Series: Salvaged Fate Triology [1]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Adult Content, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Sex, Swearing, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-07
Updated: 2012-07-07
Packaged: 2017-11-09 08:30:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/453436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calvi_sama/pseuds/Calvi_sama, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madisuzy/pseuds/Madisuzy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fractured is the beginning of a three-story arc set in canon just before the events of Final Fantasy: Advent Children when Geostigma holds the terrified population of the planet in its grip.  It features the beginning of a complex relationship between Tseng, Director of the Turks, and Vincent Valentine, a former member of AVALANCHE (and ex-Turk) as they have to work together to try and find a cure.  It sets the stage to fill in some of the gaps not  covered in the movie, as interpreted by the authors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously, there is no canon relationship between Tseng and Vincent, that's a little twist that we, the author's put in. We also strove to remain as factually accurate to the FFVII-verse as we could, considering there is little information on what happens to people and places in the time between events in FFVII and FFVII: Advent Children. In this piece we begin to establish a reason for Vincent appearing to know all that he does in Advent Children (through his own deductive reasoning -he had been a Turk assigned to scientists after all- along with the resources available to him), as well as give Tseng more of an active role as we both feel that he had more influence upon events than was evidenced in the film. Madisuzy writes Tseng, and Calvi_sama writes Vincent.

It was the same. It was just as he remembered, except for the decay. There was more of it now; the grand wrap-around staircase leading up to the second floor had one side collapsed, and there was a massive hole in the ornate skylight over his head, but it was still the Shinra Mansion… his own, personal hell. The memories ghosted around in the shadows, peeking out at him, teasing him, haunting him, and all he wanted to do was run, to leave and get out before they caught him and tormented him with epileptic tenacity. But Vincent was here for a reason, he had to know. He had to find some proof he existed here, in that other time… he had to find out what was done to him.  
   
He began in the depths of hell: Hojo’s laboratory. Each step he took down the decaying spiral staircase was harder than the last and when he finally reached the bottom, there was a cold, heavy weight in his chest. Carefully, he moved forward, anticipating being attacked by some of the residual monsters that chose to inhabit the ruins of Shinra Mansion, but none ever came. They either feared him or sensed a kinship with him. He didn’t know, nor did he really care.   
   
A door was ajar off to his left and he paused, slowly turning towards it. He knew this door and what lay beyond it. Walking up to it, he held out his hand and eased the decrepit wooden door open. It gave a little on its hinges but held. His enhanced eyesight easily made out the shape and detail of the coffin, its purple color now faded with time. Vincent stood over his old prison and looked down into it dispassionately; the satin in it covered by a thick layer of dust now, was still molded to his form. He was mildly horrified at his unexpected and sudden desire to lay back down in it; after all it had been where he was safe while the world turned without him, quietly serving out his punishment. But that wasn’t for him now, was it.   
   
Cloud had put an end to his penance; in not so many words told him that his debt had been paid, and that it was time for him to move on. He had, as much as he could…  
   
Turning away from the coffin with a flip and swirl of his cape, Vincent exited the tiny room and continued on his search for information. Entering Hojo’s main laboratory, he pointedly ignored the metal table and the rusty, ancient equipment over it. He knew that table far too intimately. Even now he could still hear his screams when he regained consciousness and looked down to see the claws of the Galian Beast where his own hands had been. Shaking his head, he moved into what had been Hojo’s study.   There wasn’t much left, some old books, some papers scattered around and no electronic equipment, not that he expected it to work if there had been, what with no power running to the mansion.   
   
He gathered the papers, taking a seat in the rickety chair, and scanned them, but they were just random notes about other experiments, several of which appeared to be journal entries pertaining to Sephiroth. Until, that is, he arrived at the last sheet. His eyes widened as he read, committing it to memory. Only certain words popped out at him… _failure… genetic splicing… experimentation… SOLDIER… DNA manipulation…_ until finally he came to the end and he flipped the paper over looking for more, but there wasn’t any. 

With a sigh he removed the single book of matches he had brought with him and meticulously burned every page he had found, with the exception of his own, which, he carefully folded twice and slipped it into his pocket. He would remember everything he had read here anyway. Next he looked at the books, but they were only reference materials and yielded nothing of importance. In the end he carefully stacked the books in the upper right hand corner of the desk, not wanting to burn them as they could do no harm. Finally he stood and went through the rest of the lab from floor to ceiling, even checking for hidden cubbies and nooks but finding nothing.  
   
With relief, he left Hojo’s laboratory and made his way slowly up the spiral staircase. He stopped though, when he reached the secret door at the top as his enhanced hearing picked up sounds that came from no monster. What he heard was a human. What was a human doing here? Narrowing his eyes he slowly made his way into the mansion, invisibly stalking his prey.  
   
Tseng flicked his phone closed and slipped it back into his pocket, stopping to take a good look around the foyer before he continued. He hated this building and Neilbelheim for a variety of reasons, all of which he’d rather forget. The reactor in the nearby mountains had been the last place he’d seen Zack, even though the first class thankfully hadn’t seen him. Standing by and watching as Hojo took Fair’s broken body away had been hard, memories of the far too cheery soldier and the girl waiting vainly for him back in Midgar, giving his conscience a tug. Yes, he’d watched others fall victim to the scientist before, even brought a few to him in person. Zack had been the first one he’d known personally though, even if they were barely more than mere acquaintances, rather than friends.  
   
At the time, Tseng hadn’t even giving a second thought to the blonde taken at the same time, the then trooper, Cloud Strife, being just another face in the crowd. How things had changed since that day and even though the passage of time had been relatively short, it seemed like a lifetime to the head Turk.  
   
Pulling out his gun, Tseng clicked off the safety and headed straight for the stairs leading to the second floor. He wanted to achieve his mission as quickly as possible and get back to Midgar where the memories would fade to nothing in the midst of endless days of work.  
   
Rufus had all the surviving Turks putting in twelve hour days, obsessed as he was with trying to piece together the shattered Shinra Corporation. Apart from the pointless, as far as Tseng was concerned, task of trying to win the public’s trust, Rufus had also insisted they start gathering all information they could on the Jenova project and any other bits and pieces of Hojo’s notes, in the hopes of understanding the new threat to the inhabitants of Midgar. The Geostigma was spreading quickly through the populace with no knowledge of how it was transmitted, let alone if there was a cure.  
   
A final check of the already well-searched lab for anything that may have been previously missed was Tseng’s main mission, although he thought it was a huge waste of his time and more likely an excuse for him to complete his second mission. Rufus had specifically asked for anything Hojo had on Vincent Valentine, the ex-Turk who had joined Cloud in his attempts to save the planet. Tseng was curious as to what lay behind Rufus’ sudden interest in the mysterious man, but had not yet had the opportunity to question the President about his motives. He could only hope it was something to do with trying to lure the man back to the Turks and not something underhanded, as the ex-Turk had shown himself to be a force to be reckoned with.  
   
As Tseng reached the top of the stairs, he paused briefly, his senses telling him that something was indeed watching his progress. Scanning his surroundings, he saw nothing to indicate he was correct, but still the feeling persisted as he cautiously made his way to the secret door that would lead him down to Hojo’s lab.   
   
 _Turk_ …   
   
A muscle began to tick in Vincent’s jaw as he watched the dark-haired man’s progress toward the stairs leading down to Hojo’s laboratory. He would know that suit anywhere, having worn one himself over thirty years ago. But what did the Shinra want here? There was nothing left and surely Rufus had sent Turks here before to search the place for data. He would have. Curious, he dropped noiselessly to the floor from where he had been perched in the rafters and followed Tseng down the stairs he had just come up.  
   
Walking into the lab, Tseng shrugged off his gut feeling and looked around. He almost sighed out loud at the sight of the near empty room. Reno and Rude had been sent to bring back all they could find some time ago and apart from a neatly placed stack of books on a nearby desk, the rest of the room seemed to be void of any papers or notes. Tseng figured that maybe Hojo had hidden all of his notes on the ex-Turk, the scientist knowing that Valentine’s _death_ may lead to an investigation.  
   
Slowly walking around the perimeter of the room, the Wutain began running one hand along the various surfaces, checking for any hidden areas or hiding places.  
   
Vincent listened to Tseng’s progress from where he lurked just outside the door to Hojo’s study on top of the large bookshelves, with amusement. He could imagine the Turk’s ire at being sent on such an empty mission. But still, why was he here? What did he possibly hope to find? Now he was glad for his having burned the notes he had found. The last thing he wanted was for Shinra to get a hold of Hojo’s notes on the Jenova Project. He needed to find out just what Shinra was doing here, and if that meant exposing his presence, then so be it.   
   
“You won’t find anything,” he said, his voice deep and carrying in the empty, echoing space of the abandoned rooms.  
   
Tseng spun around, his gun coming up to point in the direction the voice had come from, only to find nothing there. Scanning the room, the Turk’s concern began to rise as he slowly stepped forward. He paused, his eyes darting around nervously but found only shadows greeting his gaze. “Who are you?” he finally demanded, keeping his voice even as his pulse raced.  
   
Vincent, by this time, had leapt to the far bookshelf that was deeper in shadow. He rumbled a chuckle. “No one you need concern yourself with. Only another _interested party_ ,” he said, amused at Tseng waving his little toy gun around. “A party that got here first.”   
   
Tseng raised an eyebrow, the line of his gun following the voice, but still he could see nothing. “You are trespassing on private property,” he murmured, trying to peer into the darkness. “Everything here belongs to Shinra.”  
   
“Not anymore,” Vincent said ominously. How appropriate it was, that a former Shinra ‘possession’ was scavenging through the remains. “I am only here searching for what is rightfully mine and gathering intel on… everything else. Besides, the last I heard, Shinra is now defunct anyway.”  
   
“Shrina has not fallen, simply stumbled,” Tseng retorted, slowly beginning to walk forward. “If you are searching for something that is yours, you must have worked for Hojo in the past. There is no use trying to continue his work. Shinra no longer supports his ideas and we will stop you if you try.”  
   
Oh, that was rich. “Oh, I wouldn’t say Shinra has stumbled. Rather I would say it has fallen and broken its neck… and who said I worked for Hojo?” he said, his voice cold and dispassionate. “One might say the same for you and the “stumbled” company you laughably still work for. If you disapprove of Hojo’s work so much, why are you fumbling around in what is left of his lab?”  
   
“Who I work for is none of your concern,” Tseng retorted, ignoring the insult to the Shinra Corporation as he continued to approach the voice’s location. “If you did not work for Hojo, than what is your interest here?”  
   
The Turk was getting too close. Vincent collected his energy and did a short teleport to the shadows at the far end of the opposite bookshelf. “Who you work for is absolutely my concern, and regarding the second issue, I have already answered it. My interest here is personal.”  
   
Tseng spun around as the voice suddenly seemed to be coming from behind him now. “I am a Turk,” Tseng growled, fast losing his patience even though his face showed nothing but slight irritation. “If you know what’s good for you, you will answer my questions and stop your childish games.”  
   
Vincent chuckled again. “Childish games? Why little Turk, you sound dangerously close to a temper tantrum.”  _This really shouldn’t be so entertaining,_ Vincent thought wryly. But it was. “There was a time, say two or three years ago when the threat ‘I am a Turk’ held some weight, but why pray tell should I be afraid of that threat now, let alone respect it? Turks mean nothing to me; it is but a word. They are mindless pawns to a self-proclaimed businessman who suffers from a god complex who happened to inherit dead company.”  
   
“Enough,” Tseng growled, trying to restrain his anger. “One such as you obviously knows nothing of what it is to be a Turk. You throw out barbed words while hiding in the shadows like a frightened child, criticizing something you know nothing about.” Just one movement, one indication of where to aim and Tseng would take his shot, no longer caring who was taunting him.  
   
Vincent teleported again, back to the other bookcase. This Turk was trying to get a rise out of him, baiting him like he was. “Oh, I know more about what it’s like being a Turk that you ever will, and what you call ‘hiding’, I call utilizing my environment to size up my adversary.” He ‘tsked’ at the frustrated Turk. “Has Turk training degraded so much that you cannot keep control of your temper? Quite frankly, I’m surprised that you’re still alive.”  
   
Spinning around once more, Tseng’s face smirked towards his tormenter, his anger only showing in his eyes. “And yet I am still alive, without having to _utilize my environment_. I have heard many excuses for cowardice in my life, but yours is a new one.”  
   
Vincent laughed outright at that. “Cowardice? All right if that is what you wish to call it, far be it from me to change your mind. But do you really consider yourself that invulnerable that you throw caution to the wind so readily? Do you always walk into situations trusting to blind luck that you won’t get gunned down? My, my but you do think highly of yourself. No wonder Shinra fell, if you all are so stupidly arrogant.”  
   
“I assume if you were going to shoot me, you would have done so immediately and saved yourself the trouble of conversation,” Tseng retorted, stepping closer once more. “Although, you must be a lonely figure to find such amusement in arguing with a stranger. You are not a Turk or one of Hojo’s men… the only other things that walk these halls are monsters. Pray tell, are you one of those?”  
   
“Ah, but if I shot you without engaging in conversation I would not have found out what you were doing here. I think we can both agree that dead men tell no tales,” Vincent said, watching the Turk’s slow advance.   He grinned in the darkness. “I’m a little bit of everything and that is all you need know,” he said cryptically.  
   
The last line made Tseng pause, a tinge of true fear flashing through him. He’d just been trying to provoke a reaction when he’d asked if the other was a monster, never considering that he actually could be.  
   
 _Shit…_  
   
Images of Hojo’s abominations flashed through his mind, making him wish he hadn’t looked through the scientist’s file last night. He was going to kill Reno when… _if…_ he got back to Midgar. The redhead had sworn they’d cleared the house and the only risk would be from something more natural wandering in from the surrounding mountains.  
   
“While you may have a point, there is no chance I will be telling you anything,” Tseng responded flatly, his body still paused in its advance. “Are you a survivor of Hojo’s experiments?” he risked, hoping that the being before him was as human as he sounded.  
   
“Define ‘survivor’?” Vincent said, his voice little more than a low, feral growl. He was silent a moment longer before he said in a little more conversational tone of voice, “You’ve already told me a great deal, Turk, and what you haven’t told me I can extrapolate from the provided data and come to a sufficient conclusion.”  
   
“You’ve discovered information that was previously missed?” Tseng murmured, frowning into the shadows. Whoever this was, they’d managed to discover something that Reno had left behind… something that may be the key to the Geostigma or even the mystery of Vincent Valentine. But considering this being wouldn’t even show themselves, how was Tseng supposed to get it back? “I assume you are not the type to surrender what you’ve found?”  
   
Vincent grinned, leaning down closer to the bookshelf in his crouch. “Correct,” he said simply.  
   
“That is… unfortunate,” Tseng muttered, his hand twitching on his gun. The head Turk knew his limits and usually only took calculated risks. If this was a normal man he was facing, he wouldn’t have even thought about how to proceed, knowing that his skills were sufficient to best most. But this was one of Hojo’s survivors, possibly augmented with goddess knows what and completely unpredictable in strength and ability. Trying to retrieve the information by force was a risk that could very well end in his death but what choice did he have? There was nowhere else to gain information from, no other hope for a cure to the Geostigma that Rufus had already contracted….  
   
“For you, perhaps,” Vincent conceded. “But I am finished here. You are more than welcome to continue your search. You shall find nothing, but something tells me you won’t believe me. Good day to you, Sir.” With that, Vincent prepared himself for the short teleportation jump that would take him to the top of the spiral staircase.  
   
Tseng sucked in a breath when he realized that his opponent was about to disappear, reacting on instinct as he raised his gun quickly, firing in the direction of the voice. At best, he hoped the shot would connect, wounding or killing the other so he could retrieve the data.   At worst, he would miss or the shot would not do enough damage to stop his opponent from leaving… or just piss it off enough that it turned on him. Either way, he couldn’t let this chance pass by when he was so close. Keeping his gun up, he paused, staring into the shadows as he tried to judge his next step.  
   
The unexpected bullet that whizzed by his head, laying open his cheek in a shallow cut, both startled him and roused his anger. Without thinking, he teleported down to right behind the Turk and with very little effort he grabbed the man’s arm and twisted it up behind his back, causing the gun to fall to the floor where he promptly kicked away. “Bad move, Turk,” he growled in Tseng’s ear, his gauntlet coming up to wrap around a pale throat. “Very bad move, discharging your firearm in this place and not having a definite sight on your target. You must have a death wish or just no credible intelligence.”  
   
“It achieved… my aim,” Tseng gasped, wincing as his arm was disabled. “You have what I need. I cannot just let you leave with it.” His mind was working quickly, trying to put together the clues of who or what this was attacking him. There was a claw wrapped around his neck which didn’t feel like a monster’s. It was hard, like armor or something similar and he’d seen a flash of gold as he was grabbed. The voice in his ear was deep but definitely human and the other hand holding his arm behind his back seemed to be normal.   
   
 _It couldn’t be, could it?_     
   
“Valentine?” he whispered, not sure whether he should be relieved or more worried if his guess was correct.  
   
“Did it?” Vincent breathed, amused despite his anger. The scent of the Turk’s nervousness was coming off of him in waves, thick and sharp, despite the man’s attempts to remain outwardly calm. Vincent grinned. The body never lied, no matter how much the mind told it to. He lowered his nose to the Turk’s neck and inhaled slowly. “Well, I guess it did. But you’ll not collect what I have taken, what is mine,” he said as the Turk’s scent slowly enveloped his senses. “Valentine, Valentine…,” he said a little dreamily. “I suppose once upon a time I was called that… and who might you be, Shinra?” he asked, moving his head to slowly sniff the other side of the Turk’s neck, knowing full well who it was in his grasp, but deciding to play with his prey a little longer. His eyelids lowered, became hooded as the musky scent of his prize grew stronger the longer he held him in place.   
   
“Tseng, head of the Turks,” Tseng answered, managing to keep the nervousness out of his voice as he was… sniffed?  _Shit… he’s sniffing me?_  The Turk wriggled a little, trying to test the hold he was trapped in. Unfortunately, there was no give at all so he decided words would be his only weapon right now as he fought down the disappointment at not being remembered from their previous encounters. “Can we not come to an agreement? The information you hold may lead to the cure of many. Is it not selfish of you to withhold it?”  
   
“Ooooohhhh,” Vincent sighed, bringing his nose up to bury it in the Turk’s hair. It smelled, lightly floral, but certainly clean, as though the man was meticulous about his hygiene. “An idealistic Turk,” he said, grinning into Tseng’s hair while simultaneously pulling the man back against him more firmly.   “Careful Tseng, ‘Head of the Turks’; idealism can get you killed. I have firsthand experience.” Tseng’s body was hard, sculpted and refined and he could feel the honed muscles of the trained killer, coiled and steely, the body fit and ready for combat, for a fight. Discipline seemed to ooze from the man’s pores and Vincent found himself excited by this, wanting to test that discipline however he could. “Why would I care about this faceless ‘many’ of which you speak? I think I have every right to be selfish.”  
   
“You… you don’t care if thousands die? I thought you were supposed to be one of the good guys,” Tseng murmured, trying to keep the conversation going. He was far too aware of the body pressed against his back, the breath warm against his hair and the deep voice that seemed to vibrate along his spine with the new proximity. Closing his eyes, he breathed in deeply, calming himself outwardly despite the quickening pace of his pulse. “Furthermore, I am not idealistic. I just realize that there is no point in supporting a President if he has nobody left to lead.”  
   
Vincent could hear Tseng’s heartbeat; a deep, low throb that his own responded to.   He tightened his grip a little. “What have the _thousands_ done for me?” he murmured. “What a funny phrase, ‘good guys _’_. No one is completely good and no one is completely bad… though, that last might be debatable.” He chuckled to himself. “So you are saying that the thousands who might die mean so little to you as your employer’s desire to lead? That’s awfully shallow of you, Tseng.” But still, what the man said was troubling. The _thousands_ mattered little to him, but his friends might be included in that number and that _did_ matter to him. “So what is this new fear that grips our good president?”  
   
“I never claimed to be deep, Valentine,” Tseng retorted, his temper rising at the other man’s continued hold and his own body’s reaction to it. “The disease is called geo-stigma; Jenova’s legacy to the people of Gia. It is spreading quickly and there is no cure or treatment. We are trying to collect any information we can on Jenova and Hojo’s experiments in the hope of finding some way to fight it. Nobody is immune and it targets the old and the young, without bias.” Tseng began to wriggle once more, testing the other’s continued hold, but achieved nothing but a further tightening of the grip around him. Somehow, he had to get free before Valentine noticed his traitorous body’s arousal.  
   
Well this was troubling news indeed. The first image that popped into his head was of Marlene, the sweet child that looked upon him without fear or distrust, who treated him like he was normal. “Geostigma,” Vincent murmured thoughtfully. “I only found a few documents that pertained to Sephiroth… and there was nothing mentioned about Jenova, specifically. Have you obtained Jenova’s remains? As with any disease, if the originator of the disease is found, the primary carrier, then a “cure” might be derived from the subject’s existent immune system. But I’m sure your scientists have already…“ He broke off as a new scent reached his overly-sensitive sniffer.  
   
This smell held a spicy, excited texture… one that caused Vincent’s body to react quite strongly. Without warning he spun them both around to slam Tseng up against a dusty bookshelf face first, pressing against the man quite firmly. “Why Tseng,” he rumbled, leaning in to inhale deeply just behind the Turk’s ear. “Do you really think this is the time or the place for that?”  
   
Tseng gasped, sucking in a breath as he was slammed hard against the bookcase. “Are you insane?” he demanded, wincing as his vision blurred. “Your body may be able to take this kind of treatment, but mine cannot.” His one free arm had managed to save his body from the impact into the shelves, but his head had not been so lucky. “And what the fuck are you babbling about? Time or the place for what?”  
   
"You don't _desire_ me, do you, Turk?" Vincent growled, pushing his pelvis into Tseng's buttocks. "I can smell it. It secretes from your pores, it's in the hitch of your breath, the cadence of your heart. This is dangerous...." With a rough, abrupt twisting motion he released his hold on Tseng and spun the Turk around only to take the man’s wrists and pin them back against the crumbling bookshelf, holding them effortlessly. There was a smudge of dirt under the man’s left eye. “…since I am, in fact, not quite sane. You’re still breathing aren’t you?” he finished, raising an eyebrow in wry amusement.  
   
“The fact you think I desire you demonstrates clearly that you are not sane,” Tseng retorted, glaring up at the taller man. As Vincent looked back, one eyebrow raised skeptically, Tseng noticed how attractive the man was and glared harder. He would not let his body’s wants rule his better judgment, his commonsense insisting that getting Vincent to release him in one piece should be his priority right now. “If the information you hold has nothing that will assist me in my search than we have nothing further to discuss.”  
   
“Hm, is that so…,” Vincent said, eyes unfocused, pupils dilated. He leaned down to bury his nose in Tseng’s neck again, inhaling slowly. The Turk’s scent was hypnotic and as he pushed one of his thighs between the man’s legs, his tongue came out to slowly lick up the side of Tseng’s neck. The man tasted good, salty seduction and throbbing, sweet desire. He pressed up with his thigh, feeling something rather telling in the other man’s composure, and grinned into Tseng’s neck.   
   
“No, clearly you do not desire me; perhaps it is the… spiders, then? That have your attention?” He pulled back and looked down at Tseng in a mixture of humor and raw lust. “Well, I guess we’re through here.” And just like that, he released Tseng, and with a dramatic flip of his cape turned and began making his way back up the hallway toward the spiral staircase.  
   
Tseng’s mind started racing as soon as Vincent turned his back, knowing that somehow he had to retrieve the information for the President. His eyes darted around the room, looking around for something to stun the other man with, as he guessed shooting him in the arm or leg would just further anger the ex-Turk and he already knew that killing him outright would anger Rufus.  
   
Looking after the retreating figure, he noticed him step over a discarded piece of metal pipe and immediately moved into action. Running after Vincent, he scooped up his chosen weapon, brandishing it in both hands and bringing it down as hard as he could into the back of Valentine’s head.


	2. Chapter 2

Vincent had heard the pursuing footsteps, had known that turning his back would be courting an attack, and as a result had expected some sort of retaliation. From that wariness, he had moved just in time to avoid a rather spectacular blow to his head, only to have the pipe crash down onto his shoulder instead. With a grunt, he felt his right arm go limp and he actually heard a crunch of bone as his collarbone cracked in two. With a snarl he made a fist and brought his gauntlet up to backhand Tseng in the jaw hard enough to send the man flying over into the stone wall. He was at Tseng a second later, hauling the stunned man to his feet and in close to his face. “And you call _me_ insane, Turk,” he hissed, wincing from the pain in his broken collarbone. “You have no clue what you are dealing with.”  
   
Tseng tried to focus on Vincent’s face, but his vision was so affected he could only see a dull blur in front of him as he tried to recover from the hit to his face and the impact into the wall. His plan to knock out the ex-Turk had failed, instead leaving him damaged and with one very pissed off Vincent Valentine pinning him to the wall. He had the ominous feeling that his day was about to get even worse.  
   
Ignoring the pain coming from his jaw and back, Tseng tried to process what the other man had just said, searching for a way to escape this whole scenario with his life. His panicked mind presented him with nothing, so he fell back to his original goal, retrieving the data Valentine held.  
   
“I… I’m a Turk,” he stuttered out, pausing to wince as his jaw protested to the movement. “You know what that means. I have to… to get the data, in any way I can.”  
   
“Even if it means getting yourself killed?” Vincent snarled, shoving Tseng back and wincing in his own barely concealed pain as the bones in his shoulder ground together then began to knit under the influence of Chaos’s power. But could he be so critical? He had been a Turk once, and he knew that the risks for gathering information included the sacrifice of one’s own life if necessary. He had no choice but to respect that, but to send the _Director_ to do this? This he could neither excuse nor forgive. It was a stupid move on Shinra’s part and he said as much. “There’s canon-fodder to send for this job. Shinra is and always will be an idiot. He’s using you and you let him. You’re nothing but a disposable resource to him,” he spat.  
   
Tseng blinked through eyes that were finally beginning to focus, his gaze drawn to Vincent’s shoulder by the sound of cracking bones. He could see what looked like movement under the other man’s clothes and suddenly realized that his attack must have connected with Valentine’s shoulder, which was now healing itself. His eyes wide, he met his opponent’s gaze.  
   
“Yes, even if I get killed. It is my duty, my responsibility to serve the President however he wishes. Besides, all Turks are canon-fodder realistically and I am no better or more valuable than any other.  
   
“Oh, there you are wrong, Tseng,” Vincent growled low in his throat. “You are the Director, are you not? That places a new responsibility upon your shoulders, or have things changed so much in the thirty years since my tenure among you?” He paced back and forth in front of the rattled man. Why did that bother him? The Turks were no longer his concern, but then something Veld had said to him when they were cadets came back to him: _Once a Turk, always a Turk, Vince_. And he realized that that was true, deep down, viscerally. His loyalty was no longer to Shinra, but his brothers in arms commanded a respect from him, nay, demanded a respect from him, and he knew that they would have felt the same way had the circumstances been reversed.   
   
“Damn you, Veld.” He muttered, and looked back up at Tseng. “Fine,” he growled. “Take your ‘information’ back to your beloved president. We’re done here.” And he turned once more to leave, flexing his newly healed shoulder carefully, wincing as he did so.  
   
“Vincent! I need the data you found, not your own musings on the subject,” Tseng insisted, straightening his clothes as he moved to follow the other man. “I can’t leave without it.”  
   
“Then you’ll be here a very long time,” Vincent said over his shoulder as he paused. “I burned it. It’s all up here.” He tapped his head. “I told you. Find Jenova’s remains.”  
   
Tseng stared at Vincent, his eyes wide with shock. “You… you _burnt_ it? What possessed you to do that? Didn’t you realize how important the information was?” When the ex-Turk simply ignored him and kept walking, Tseng’s temper flared, the smaller man striding up behind him and grabbing onto his arm. “Fuck you, Valentine. Stop walking away while I’m talking to you!”  
   
When Tseng spun him around, Vincent’s eyes narrowed dangerously and his voice growled like approaching thunder, “Get your hands off of me, Turk,” he said, bringing up his arm to dislodge Tseng’s grip. “I burned them because your manipulative employer need not meddle in things he knows nothing about. One Sephiroth was enough, the Planet doesn’t need another one, or have you forgotten about Sephiroth? And that bastard, Shinra has no business even entertaining the idea of resurrecting the SOLDIER program.” He then took several steps forward, pushing Tseng back with his sheer presence alone.   
   
His hand shot out, fast as a striking snake to grab Tseng’s slowly bruising jaw. “Fuck me,” he said with a sneer, “wouldn’t you like to do that.” And he crushed his lips down onto the Turk’s. It was neither passionate, nor kind; it was sheer masculine dominance over the other. And when he drew back he could see undisguised malice in the other man’s black eyes.  
   
“Rufus is nothing like his father. He has no interest in the SOLDIER program and wants this information only to find a cure for Geostigma,” Tseng hissed, jerking his head out of Vincent’s grasp and stepping back. “It is people like you who make his attempts to rectify his father’s sins near impossible. You have no right to judge him, Valentine. Of all people, you should understand the need to rectify sins. After all, wasn’t it you who failed to protect Sephiroth’s true mother from Hojo? Or was it that you supported Hojo and his experiments, until you became one yourself?”  
   
“Don’t you _dare_ to presume to know what happened from a time when you were still sucking on your mother’s tit!” Vincent hissed and brought his balled fist up to crash into Tseng’s face, sending the Turk’s head snapping back on his neck, and causing the man to fall back onto his back with a sickening crunch. He then straddled Tseng’s abdomen, fisted his hand in the Turk’s shirt and dragged the man’s face up close to his own. “So Rufus is sick then? That’s the only way he’d send his lapdog into a pit like this, that or to find another way to take advantage of the people of this Planet. And if that’s the case then they’re better off dead. I don’t know what Veld saw in you,” he sneered.  
   
“The man I remember would never tolerate a sycophantic ass-wiper like you. But you’re right up Shinra’s alley, or do you have Rufus’s cock so far down your throat you can’t even think for yourself anymore?” Disgusted with the Turk, he head butted Tseng, momentarily seeing stars and loving it. “There is no rectification for his father’s sins, and like father… like… son. Let him rot.” And he spat in Tseng’s face and got up, fully intending to leave before he shot the man, Turk or no.  
   
Tseng’s vision blacked out as he gasped for air, winded by the impact with the floor. Blood filled his mouth and he sat up to cough through it, his head pounding with pain as he groped blindly at his ankle, his hands finally finding his back up pistol. Pulling it out and blinking rapidly to clear his vision, he aimed at the retreating blur.  
   
“You so eagerly leave your so called friends to Geostigma’s curse, unwilling to lift a finger to help those that call you family. Rufus has more honor than you will ever possess, you selfish, self-centered, abomination,” he rasped, firing at his retreating attacker until his gun clicked, empty and useless. His hands dropped the spent weapon as he collapsed onto his side, trying desperately to cling to consciousness.  
   
Vincent froze and looked back over his shoulder at the bloody Turk. The gun Tseng was pointing at him was wavering and the man looked as though he fought to stay conscious. Every shot had swung wide, but for one, and that one had nearly hit his shoulder. He shook his head. “The day Rufus has honor is the day I will be forgiven for my sins, Tseng,” he said softly. “And I shall live a great deal longer than he. I have no intention of abandoning my friends. I just do not require your dear little perfect President’s help. They are all that matter to me, and if I am to die along with the rest of the Planet to save them, then so be it.” He laughed harshly, the sound grating and rough. “And I am absolutely an abomination you are right, but ultimately your opinion of me, means nothing.”  
   
“Then you must have already been forgiven,” Tseng muttered, rolling onto his back with a gasp of pain, completely drained from the beating he’d received. Staring up at the ceiling, Tseng gathered that none of his shots had hit the other man and sighed in frustration. This would be so much easier if Valentine had taken a direct hit. “Your hatred of the last President is justified but your hatred of Rufus is not. He wasn’t even born when you were wronged and yet you pass him equal blame. It is easy to judge blindly… and here I was thinking you were an intelligent man.”  
   
“Your loyalty amuses me, Turk,” Vincent said wryly, cocking his head slightly. “Misplaced though it may be. Is your memory so flawed that you forgot that I was a part of the group that stopped Sephiroth? I saw what Rufus had done, and there was no honor in that, only rash stupidity. It’s a pity, really that he didn’t die in that explosion.” He walked over to stand next to Tseng’s prone body, and then knelt. “Poor, poor Tseng, ‘Head of the Turks’. You would never have survived in my time.” He pursed his lips a moment before chuckling.  
   
“Rufus is most certainly not like his father, he knows how to truly manipulate people. One has only to look at you to see a perfect example. It’s actually rather funny.” He then propped his chin on the heel of his hand and said as though explaining something to a very small child. “Think about it, Turk. If you were the president, with ultimate power and everyone under your heel, then you lose everything, it would behoove you to play to the public, pretend to care and put their best interests first and above your own.” He sighed then. “I pity you, poor creature, that you will finally see his true self only when it is too late. Who will mend your broken heart? Your wounded pride? ”  
   
“You know nothing. I raised Rufus for most of his life and know he is capable of being a good man. What he did at the beginning was wrong, but he has learned from that and will not slip back down that path again. I will make sure of it,” Tseng insisted. “As for your insistence that I would not survive in your time as a Turk, I was trained by Veld and he said that I was the only one to ever surpass your skills, Valentine.” Tseng couldn’t help but smirk up at the other man, hoping that if Vincent still had a heart, he could maybe make it sting a little.  
   
Vincent snorted. “Your argument is growing as weak as it is pathetic. Time changes people Tseng, ‘Head of the Turks’. Veld might have said that of you then, but what of you now? You’ve been playing wet nurse to little Rufus Shinra for so long that you’ve forgotten what it’s like to actually be a Turk. Just wait until he betrays you. It’s in his blood.” He sighed and stood back up. “We’re finished here Tseng, stop wasting my time.”  
   
Tseng sighed in frustration, watching Valentine turn away from him once more. He’d tried insults, force and even asking, which left him with only one other option. It was a last resort, one he’d only ever used once or twice in his life, and then only on females, but with no other ideas coming to mind, Tseng was forced to use it. Dragging himself upright as quickly as he could, he stumbled towards Vincent’s retreating back and threw his arms around the other man’s waist, pushing his body flush with the ex-Turk’s and holding on tight.  
   
“Veld told me many things about you, Vincent. Do you still have the same weaknesses that you had all those years ago?” he whispered, his body trembling from the pain the movement caused him.  
   
He had expected more insults or even another physical attack, but what in Hades was Tseng trying to pull now? “What you are doing?” Vincent asked in disbelief as he felt Tseng’s body press up flush against his own. “Have you completely lost your mind?”  
   
“Maybe,” Tseng chuckled softly. “Then again, with all the times you’ve hit my head today, would it be such a surprise?” He managed to get one of his hands to the buckle of Valentine’s belt, letting the other one slowly began to creep lower and hoping he didn’t lose an arm for his actions. “Why, am I making you uncomfortable?”  
   
With a hiss, Vincent grabbed both of Tseng’s wrists and pulled them away from his waist. He then released the Turk and turned around, eyeing the man cautiously. “In point of fact you are. Just what do you think you are trying to accomplish?”  
   
Tseng looked up at Vincent, grinning at the ex-Turk’s reaction. It looked like he had finally found something that would throw the other man off balance. “You started this with all the rubbing and sniffing, Valentine,” he retorted, stepping forward to grasp onto the front of Vincent leathers, pulling their bodies close again. “Do you really hate my touch so much?”  
   
In return, Vincent knocked Tseng’s hands off of his leathers and mirrored the position, fisting his right hand in the Turk’s shirt. “I started it?” He narrowed his eyes. “You can hardly blame me, nor call it my fault when you were the one who couldn’t control your own body. You were practically _begging_ me to fuck you with the pheromones you were giving off. And as a matter of fact, I do hate your touch.” He ended in a sneer and released Tseng with a rough shove, causing the Turk to stagger back a couple of steps.  
   
“So Veld was right. He always said you were too virginal for your own good. Does cock really scare you that much?” Tseng retorted, grinning as he straightened up, his head spinning once more.  
   
Vincent snorted. “What, do you have a selective memory? You must not have heard all Veld’s stories. The man always did talk too much when he was drunk,” he muttered, then said a little louder, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “No, cock doesn’t ‘scare’ me, Turk, just yours. You’ve been bending over for Shinra for so long, there’s no telling what you’ve contracted.”  
   
“Only in your dreams, Vincent,” Tseng replied, still grinning. The Turk was beginning to enjoy the banter back and fourth, which led him to believe he’d definitely been spending far too much time with Reno. “And I don’t bend over for anyone. Do you? Or are you still guarding that purity of yours so carefully?  Maybe you just find yourself too good for us mortal humans now?”  
   
“I don’t sleep, ergo I don’t dream and if I did, and dreamt of that blemish between your legs that you call a dick it would be enough reason to avoid sleep at all costs.” Vincent rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “You don’t bend over for anyone? Well, I suppose Rufus is smarter than I thought, knowing better than to let a filthy Wutainese gutter rat near any hope he might have at an heir. Of course,” he said meditatively, “Rufus might want to reconsider his orientation if he ever wanted to obtain an heir in the first place. Though I still have to question his decision that your mouth is any cleaner than your ass. And no, I’m certainly not worthy of ‘mortal humans’ now, but I’m closer to that worthiness than you and the other Shinra scum who betrayed them are.”  
   
Tseng laughed outright, not able to hold back his amusement. “Oh Valentine, hit a nerve did I?” he managed to say, once he’d gotten his laughter under control. “You’re very defensive on this particular subject, aren’t you? Hmmm… I sense maybe you might have some performance issues in that department, or size issues, at the least.”  
   
Vincent chuckled through his irritation. Classic Turk move: identify a weakness and hack away at it until your prey gives and either spills the information or attacks to give you the upper hand. He’d play along then. It had been awhile since something had amused him this much. “Oh, well I guess you sniffed me out, Tseng ‘Head of the Turks’. You just know me so well that you can identify my weaknesses by speaking to me for only a short time,” he said mildly. “Though, I do have to wonder at your own interest on this subject. I mean, before you diagnosed me as having performance issues and a clear lack of size, indeed before you even knew who I was, you were interested in me. I could smell it! If I am so concerned with my ‘purity’, then I think you might be suffering from a rather… looser problem, yes?”  
   
“What can I say? Danger excites me. Of course, once I’d seen you… well, you’ve got a nice ass and I always did have a weakness for leather,” Tseng murmured, grin twisting into a smirk. “Seriously, Valentine. Have you even had sex in the last twenty years? You know, celibacy can make a man irritable and it’s not good for you health.”  
   
“And why do you care again?” Vincent asked, quirking an eyebrow.   “Oh wait,” he said holding up his gloved hand solemnly. “Forgive me, my ‘virginal purity’. Well, since that is such a concern it would be in my best interest to avoid sex now wouldn’t it?” He blinked innocently.  
   
“Your choice. It’s a shame you constantly deny yourself pleasure though. Do you honestly think that you can make amends for past errors by making yourself suffer now? Rather depressing view on life you have. You look down on Turks, but at least we understand that life is short and pleasure one of its few rewards,” Tseng murmured, beginning to tire of the conversation as Valentine stopped reacting. The man really was a block of stone when it came to sex, it would seem.  
   
Vincent shrugged. “Perhaps. But it is my choice, is it not? And maybe my path is one destined for self destruction, but that is not your concern. I remember the faint memories of being a Turk, and my animosity is not for you, nor do I think you really hate me. Your loyalty is admirable, Tseng. It’s a shame it is not appreciated. But the circumstances for my sins are far beyond your ability to comprehend.”  
   
“You should leave your judgment to the gods, Valentine,” Tseng said softly, walking over to lean on the nearest wall as his injuries began to throb. “Don’t you tire of it? All this self hatred and mourning over sins that you can do nothing to redeem? If what little knowledge we do have of you is true, you are going to live a very long time. Far too long to waste in darkness.”  
   
“The Gods have abandoned me, Tseng,” Vincent said softly, moving over to rest against the far wall. “They hold sway and judgment over all things mortal and since I am no longer mortal then I would be waiting a very long time indeed for their judgment. And the truth of it is I have existed this way for so long that I no longer remember what an unburdened life feels like. I rather envy you your simple, short lives.”  
   
“Well, if the gods have abandoned you, what are you worried about? It only means you answer to no one and are free to do what you please. After all, life is not measured by length, but the quality of the living, Valentine,” Tseng replied, closing his eyes and sighing. “You really are a very depressing man.”  
   
“You just don’t get it do you, Turk.” Vincent replied with a sigh. “I could turn myself into a saint; do ‘good things’ for the rest of eternity, but still be shackled by my own sins. I would be no closer to absolution. Those who could forgive me are gone, and I can never ask them for forgiveness, and so I shall remain trapped. I think,” he said pushing off of the wall and taking a step toward the laboratory so that he could see the dim outline of the metal examination table beyond. “I think I shall be forgiven, when I am allowed to die.” He shuddered and turned away from the door then to face the wall, and he gave a dry snort. “And I’ll take that last bit as a compliment.”  
   
“Fine. Insist on your self torture if you must,” Tseng murmured, opening his eyes to look over the other man.  _He really does have a nice ass…_ “But while you’re waiting for your death, would it really be so bad to fuck once in a while?”  
   
Vincent raised one eyebrow in a smirk. “Are you offering? Tseng, ‘Head of the Turks’?”  
   
Tseng’s interest in the conversation was suddenly back with that one line. Was the other man serious? Thinking over their conversation, he reasoned this was just another bluff from the ex-Turk so he decided to play along. After all, he could hardly back down now.   
   
“I would think my interest was already quiet clear to you, Valentine. You are the one who was so frightened of my apparently ‘diseased’ body. Have you suddenly found your bravery or is this just more chest thumping from you?”  
   
Vincent laughed outright at that. “Oh I wouldn’t worry too much about what diseases you might be carrying, Turk. My body is nearly indestructible. But I suppose I could always get lucky and ‘catch’ something from you that might kill me. Oh the irony of finding my death from a Turk-born disease. My redemption delivered by a member of the organization that betrayed me! Now that _is_ humorous.”  
   
“Now you’re making me wish I _did_ have something to pass on to you,” Tseng retorted, a grin finding its way back to his lips as he pushed off the wall and slowly approached the ex-Turk. It would be interesting to see how far the other man would let this go. “I do have to ask though, have you ever had sex with a man before, Valentine? Actually, have you ever had sex with _anyone_ before?”  
   
Vincent’s only reply was a secretive little smile. When Tseng stood in front of him, strong chin raised in pride, he leaned forward to murmur into one ear. “Well I guess we’ll find out won’t we.”  He then brought his gloved hand down to firmly cup and squeeze Tseng’s crotch as he nipped Tseng’s earlobe. “You were wrong when you said you bend over for no one, Tseng ‘Head of the Turks’, because you _will_ bend over for me.”  
   
Tseng was glad Vincent couldn’t see his eyes go wide in reaction. He hadn’t expected the ex-Turk to move so boldly or aggressively, reasoning that the other man would back down before any actual touching occurred. The words Valentine whispered into Tseng’s ear had him tensing up, despite his efforts to try and keep his body relaxed.  _He’s just pushing it, waiting for me to back down first… surely…_  
   
“Me bending over for you will require more than a grope and a threat, Valentine,” he retorted, wrapping one arm around the leather clad waist before him and pushing his hips forward into the other’s hand. “Sure you’re really up for this?”  
   
Grinning toothily, Vincent stood firm against Tseng’s advance. He brought his gauntlet up to wrap around Tseng’s throat, the claw on his thumb gently scratching the Turk’s cheek. “Would I have been so forward if I weren’t ‘up for this’?” He countered, eyelids dropping halfway, hooding his red eyes. “But your concern for my ‘virginal purity’ is duly noted.”   He smirked. “More than a grope and a threat you say? Is this you asking me to _force_ you? I should hate to do that.” His grin turned feral. “But I will if you give me no choice.”  
   
“I…,” Tseng began, stopping to swallow and steady his voice, his eyes locked onto the ex-Turk’s. The claw wrapped around his throat was having an unpredicted effect on his libido and Vincent’s words continued to only add to his arousal. “I’m sure your heart would bleed over my discomfort,” he managed, his voice sounding far calmer that he felt.  
   
Vincent rumbled a chuckle, face mere inches away from Tseng’s. “Actually, I don’t really care about your comfort. You’re a Turk; you’re trained for this…” He brushed his lips against Tseng’s, just the barest hint of contact before his lips spread back into their feral grin.  “… or has a desk job made you…” he openly let his eyes roam down Tseng’s body, then back up to the man’s black, black eyes. “… weak?”  
   
“I am not weak,” Tseng hissed, alarm bells going off in his head, which he tried to ignore. He would not let Valentine intimidate him, no matter how vulnerable he was right now. “If it is pain and not pleasure that interests you, I would suggest you let me go. I may be perverted, but I am not twisted.”  
   
“And what’s wrong with a little pain mixed with pleasure, hm?” Vincent purred. “Don’t you ever long to have someone control you? Someone who is your equal and not your superior? Someone who knows the awful weight of responsibility? And someone whose pulse is quickened by danger just as much? Haven’t you ever wanted to relinquish that control… just once?” His voice ended in a near whisper as he lowered his head to Tseng’s neck, taking his time to lick up column of the man’s throat before trailing his lips back down to just above Tseng’s collar where he nipped sharply.  
   
Tseng opened his lips to respond to Vincent’s words, only to gasp when his neck was licked. He could feel his face heat as his body reacted, against his wishes. “There is nothing wrong with a little pain mixed with pleasure… as long as you remember my human limits,” he responded breathlessly. “And while danger does excite me, you will find my control is not so easily broken. No one has managed it yet.”  
   
“Oh, I think I’ve come so very close already,” Vincent murmured, sliding his hand to the waistband of Tseng’s slacks. “I can hear it in your very blood,” he said, slowly working the button open, followed by a slow pulling of a zipper. “Your human limits?” he asked, reaching into Tseng’s slacks and cupping the Turk’s cock boldly, squeezing just shy of pain. “Push them, Tseng. Push them until they scream for mercy.”  
   
The moan that slipped from Tseng’s lips left his mind screaming obscenities at itself. He was losing this battle of wills at an embarrassingly fast rate that was completely unacceptable. Valentine was beautiful, dangerous and could break him in two with little effort and all of these facts should have warned him not to even try. Problem was, he’d always had a weakness for everything Vincent was and as a Turk, he had an overwhelming urge to challenge his own weaknesses.  
   
“Make me,” he whispered, leaning in close to nip at the ex-Turk’s bottom lip, pulling it gently between his teeth.  Tseng suddenly realized that his only chance lay in trying to get the upper hand, no matter how much his whole body wanted to just surrender.  
   
“Oh, I think you’re going to regret saying that, Tseng, ‘Head of the Turks’.” Vincent rumbled right before crushing his lips back down onto Tseng’s once again. He thrust his tongue into Tseng’s mouth, staking an irrefutable claim on the shorter man and making an inarguable point at the same time. While his mouth kept the Turk busy, his gloved hand remained active, quickly and efficiently frisking him. He gasped and pulled back as he located a set of plasticuffs. “What have we here, Turk? Been hiding some toys have we?” Of course he had known some sort of tool of restraint would have been on the man. It had been his goal to find them when he had kissed Tseng.  
   
He quickly grabbed Tseng’s wrists and there was a set of zipping ‘whizzes’ as he bound the man’s hands in front of him. “Shall we make this more interesting?” He purred, smirking.


	3. Chapter 3

Panic flared in the Turk’s eyes before he could conceal it, his lust-fogged mind clearing as he realized that this whole encounter was slipping further and further beyond his control. “Release me,” Tseng growled, scowling up at Vincent’s amusement and taking a step backwards. “There is no need for this!” he added, holding up his bound hands, as he concealed his fear with anger.  
   
“Is your control so easily broken, Tseng?” Vincent asked softly, looking down at the Turk. “How disappointing. How far the Turks have fallen, if this is the best they have to offer.” He grabbed Tseng’s bound hands and jerked the man forward so that Tseng’s face was mere inches from his own as his red eyes bored into black. “Look at your eyes, how quick they fill with fear,” he whispered, entranced as the sleeping beasts in him demanded he go for the Turk’s throat. “It’s heady isn’t it? Fear. It’s like a drug… it takes over your body until you hardly recognize it!”  
   
“Fuck you,” Tseng whispered hoarsely, his eyes focusing on the ex-Turk’s lips. “I’d be a fool not to be afraid of you. I fear no human but human is something you haven’t been for a very long time.” It was a low shot but Tseng was getting desperate. His will to fight against his attraction was slipping away, his pride the only thing keeping up his walls. He wanted Valentine so badly that his body kept trying to edge closer of its own accord, his hips pressing forward as he flicked his glaring eyes up to meet Vincent’s once more.  
   
“There’s that ‘fuck you’ again,” Vincent said in amusement, barely containing a laugh. “Careful Tseng, ‘Head of the Turks’. You’re going to start sounding desperate in a moment.” He sobered a little at the ‘human’ taunt. “Cheap shot, Tseng. Is that the best you can do?” His gloved hand grabbed Tseng’s jaw and he said sadly, “I think you’ve forgotten just what it means to be human. It’s taken it being stripped from me to make me remember. What might it take to remind you, I wonder.” he said coldly. “What can I _strip_ from you to make you remember?” And with that his right hand dropped to Tseng’s shirt and with little effort he ripped the Turk’s shirt open, sending buttons flying in every direction. His eyebrow lifted as he took in the pale skin that was now revealed to him.   
   
The defined muscles of the Turk’s heaving chest, the peaked, dark nipples then further down a toned abdomen to a dusting of fine, dark hair that disappeared into the waistline of silk boxers. “Very nice,” he murmured, his eyes dilating to near black, surrounded by a thin ring of red.  
   
“Ruining my clothes is not going to re-instate my humanity, Valentine,” Tseng retorted, lifting his chin defiantly, true anger shining through his gaze at the damage to his shirt. His pulse was hammering a too-fast beat in his ears as his nipples hardened in the chilly air. “You talk of remembering what it is to be human and yet you turn your back and claim indifference when asked to hand over information that would help _millions_. Your self awareness is warped, at best. Besides, I was speaking of physical humanity before, not mental. I fear you to a point because I know you are capable of killing me with very little effort.”  
   
“So vain,” Vincent sighed, blinking back his sudden and unexpected arousal. “I’m not surprised. And stupid. I said I remembered, I never said I learned. And here you are concerned with the state of your clothes. I’ll take ‘warped self awareness’ over such appalling vanity. You really are Shinra's little pet, aren’t you. And physical humanity?” He laughed outright at that. “Look at me, Tseng. I look human, I’ve just been… modified. A little forgotten byproduct of Shinra’s legacy.” He gave a sadistic little grin, no more than the toothy up-turn of his lips. “But you did get one thing right.” He pinned Tseng with a stare and said with a hiss, “I most certainly _can_ kill you, and I won’t hesitate if you give me a reason.”  
   
“There is nothing wrong with taking pride in one’s appearance. Maybe you have spent too long in dusty, dirty cellars to remember that, Valentine,” Tseng began, smirking at the other man’s anger. Angry Valentine was preferable to Seductive Valentine right now, in Tseng’s opinion. The anger he could handle… “Veld told me that you were once rather vain yourself. You had a weakness for the finest quality when it came to everything.”  
   
“Once perhaps, I won’t deny that,” Vincent said, shrugging a shoulder noncommittally. “But getting murdered and then abandoned by the very people I had sworn my loyalty too made me readjust my priorities a little. Not that I expect you to understand that.” He sighed, lifting Tseng’s bound wrists over the man’s head with a feral grin. “I’ll give you credit, trying to bait me. It worked once, but I grow bored with that.” He decided to work Tseng’s vanity a little more. He wanted to see that fear come back.   
   
“But I believe I was in the process of stripping you, wasn’t I?” Reaching forward with his gauntleted hand, he worked a claw into the waistband of Tseng’s boxers and snapped the elastic, splitting some of the silk below it so that the material parted, revealing more of Tseng’s pubic hair, and the base of the man’s penis. “Oooohhh, look at what I’ve found,” he purred appreciatively.  
   
Tseng began to struggle, pulling against the hand holding his up in the air as he turned his hips to the side, trying to hide from Vincent’s eyes. “You are a fucking twisted pervert,” he growled, his face heating with shame as his wriggling brought nothing but frustration.  
   
“And you love it,” Vincent hissed, switching his hand so that the gauntleted one held Tseng’s bound hands and his right hand was free. He then roughly reached into Tseng’s ruined boxers and withdrew the man’s cock. His hand then returned to Tseng’s jaw, holding the Turk’s face still and forcing him to meet his eyes. “Look at you; you’re half-hard already. That’s why you’re red.” He leaned in and down slightly to lick along Tseng’s jaw and then to hold his forehead against the man’s temple so that his lips were by the Turk’s ear. “What more is it going to take to get that cock hard and weeping for me, Tseng? You’re making this far too easy.”  
   
“I’m not… I mean…,” Tseng stuttered uselessly, trying to grasp onto an argument while his thoughts whirled. He wanted Vincent to touch him and it was the only thought that was clear in his head. Tseng couldn’t say that though, his pride still pushing him to fight against the need that was quickly over taking him. “Fuck… fuck,” he whispered, as shame and helplessness combined to make his cock do exactly as Vincent had asked.  
   
 _Oh how quickly the human will could be broken once the appropriate triggers were found_ , Vincent thought sadly. And he had found Tseng’s, as he watched the man’s body tremble in both denial and need. Looking up, he spied an outcropping of rock that was perfect for hanging the Turk up so he wouldn’t have to hold him anymore. Lifting Tseng he slid the rocky outcropping in between Tseng’s arms so that the Turk either had to hang or stand on his toes. It was an ideal position to discourage retaliation, but then again if the Director really wanted to retaliate he would find a way. Vincent almost hoped that he would as this really was too easy. He then went back to twisting the knife.  
   
“Look at you,” he murmured, openly staring at Tseng’s glistening cock as it stood out from his body, erect and flush. “Hanging out like that. You disappoint me, Tseng. Where is this ‘control’ you spoke of before? Or were you referring to your resilience to pain and not pleasure?” He reached out and dragged one gloved finger up the underside of Tseng’s sex, smirking as the organ twitched in reaction. “Do you want me to suck it? Wrap my lips around it and tease that fat dick with my tongue? Or are you afraid I’d bite it off, since I am just a lowly animal.”  
   
“Why would one want to resist pleasure?” Tseng muttered, ignoring his exposed cock as he tried to regain what little dignity he could, considering the circumstances. Unfortunately the cold air wasn’t doing anything to lessen his obvious desire, especially after the last things Vincent had said. “Are you offering to suck my cock, Vincent?” Tseng murmured, looking at the ex-Turk with one eyebrow raised.  
   
Vincent looked up at the bound Turk out from under thick black bangs, his lips pulling back in a near feral grin, displaying perfect white teeth. He let his red gaze roam over the flesh that had been bared to him before stepping in close. Bringing up his leather-covered hand, he ran it over Tseng’s chest slowly. He leaned in close to Tseng’s face, his thigh brushing the man’s erection. “Is that what you want?” he rumbled roughly, sliding his hand around Tseng’s side to caress the Turk’s lower back firmly. “Does it excite you? The idea of me on my knees?”  
   
“Yes… to all of your questions,” Tseng answered, staring at Vincent as he tried to work out whether the ex-Turk was serious or not. At the moment, he didn’t see the point in lying, his interest in the other man being so obvious for all to see. “Question is, what do you want, Vincent… and how do you want it?” His body was beginning to tremble a little, but Tseng was sure it was from the cold air and his awkward position, not the gunman who was standing so close, looking at him like he was considering the best way to either fuck him or kill him.  
   
Grin widening as he held his forehead against Tseng’s temple to keep the other man from seeing his increasingly interested expression, Vincent reached down and roughly grabbed the man’s erection. Squeezing and tugging on the turgid member, he breathed into the Turk’s ear, “I haven’t decided what I want yet. Perhaps I should just try things until something appeals to me, yes?”  
   
Tseng gasped at the touch, biting his lip to stop any more sounds from tumbling forth. A part of him wanted to argue with Vincent, call the man on his constant teasing and demand to know where this was headed, but his hormones quickly overruled that line of thought, picking another. “Not like I’m going to… stop you,” Tseng mumbled, biting his lip so hard when the gunman twisted his hand a certain way, that the Turk could taste blood in his mouth.  
   
There was something about being restrained and at the gunman’s mercy that gave an extra spark to what was happening, but the way his body was reacting so strongly was a little frightening to Tseng. “If you freed my hands, I could return the favor,” he ventured, finally releasing his lip to speak, only to have his hips buck up into his tormentor’s touch.  
   
“What, and give you the ability to hit me with something else? I think not,” Vincent purred, rolling Tseng’s cock around with his hand then pressing it up against the man’s belly to firmly rub the underside. “And no, you are not going to stop me. You are going to accept whatever it is I have to give you. Do you have a problem with that? Be honest now, because I can smell a lie.”  
   
“I… don’t seem to have much choice… at present,” Tseng responded, ignoring the movement of his own hips, pressing up into Vincent’s touch. He could feel his face flush, his breaths becoming labored as his body’s needs took over. “What are you planning to give me?” he whispered, biting his lip to hold back a moan.  
   
“You make it sound like I’m doing this for free,” Vincent rumbled, smirking into Tseng’s neck.  
   
“What do you want then… to not stop?” Tseng mumbled, hating himself for not fighting this and for being so weak.  
   
“Your pride,” Vincent hissed. “I want you to beg. I want you to know that I broke you with so little effort.” He slid his hand down around Tseng’s cock, over the Turk’s balls and back towards the tight puckered ring of muscle that he wanted quite suddenly to own. He pressed up hard with the heel of his hand into Tseng’s scrotum while simultaneously giving the man’s neck a sharp little nip.  
   
Gasping, Tseng wriggled in Vincent’s hold, his body trembling in reaction to the other man’s words. “I’m not… I’m not broken,” he whimpered, his voice coming out weak and desperate. Every touch from the beautiful gunman was like poison, filling his veins and rendering him helpless to resist.  
   
“Oh, but you are,” Vincent whispered. “I can see the cracks beginning Tseng, ‘Head of the Turks’. You’re fractured, desperate and needy. Your body’s betrayal is but physical proof of your mind’s fragility.” He pulled back and his red eyes bored into Tseng’s black ones. “I want you to watch me, Tseng. Watch me very carefully.” He grinned again, flashing his perfect teeth out from behind a curtain of wild dark hair as he slowly sank to his knees. When his mouth was even with the Turk’s straining sex, the man’s musky scent filling his nostrils and exciting his sexual aggression, he looked up at Tseng and asked in a deep, rough voice, “Who has the power here, Tseng? And you know exactly what I mean by that.”  
   
Tseng’s eyes were locked onto Vincent, as he hung limply from his restraints, the realization that he was already defeated, haunting his thoughts. “You do,” he whispered, quiet enough to be missed by most, but he knew the enhanced man before him would hear it.  
   
“That’s right,” Vincent said softly, but without any vindictive malice. He stared into Tseng’s face a moment longer before his eyes flicked back to the engorged penis before him. He then leaned forward and with his gloved hand holding Tseng’s erection in place he slowly ran his tongue up the underside of the shaft. He lightly traced the flared head with the tip of his tongue before he slowly drew the length into his mouth, relaxing his jaw to accommodate the girth of it.  
   
Tseng’s eyes fell closed as soon as Vincent’s tongue touched him, the sensation almost too intense to take. He didn’t notice the sounds he was making, his whole consciousness focused on trying not to come too soon as he fought to keep still, drowning in the feel of Vincent’s mouth upon him. “Vincent,” he hissed, body tense and shivering as he tried to grasp onto his pride, which was slowly crumbling before him.  
   
It was almost too easy. Tseng was all talk, but in the end he was a slave to his body’s desires. Vincent felt an uncharacteristic surge of fondness; a desire to protect the carefully guarded weakness that he could plainly see being displayed by the other man. It didn’t last long, devoured by the reaction of his own body to the soft moans and pants that Tseng was letting loose. He allowed the sly, devious thoughts to slide away as he brought up his gauntleted hand to wrap around the man’s hip, holding the body under his mouth steady. He pressed with the bladed claws into a firm buttock while his gloved hand assisted the attention given by his mouth.   
   
It should have been simple to detach himself from his task at hand, after all a Turk was a master manipulator, but he was finding it difficult. He was slowly beginning to realize that he wanted to feel something other than the hollow cold that had become his existence ever since he had woken up that final time; reanimating in order to help Cloud save the world. Looking up at Tseng, meeting those black eyes, he slowly let the thick cock slide from his mouth until only the tip rested against his closed lips. “What is it you want, Tseng?” he rumbled, running his lips back and forth over the velvety tip while stroking under the man’s scrotum lightly with a gloved finger. Tseng could be played with so little effort.  
   
Tseng stared, breathing hard as he tried to form a response. It had been so long since anyone had touched him like this, so long since he’d allowed his body to just feel and overtake his common sense with sensation. “I… I want,” he began, swallowing to try and steady his shaking voice. “I want you to take me,” he finally whispered, drowning in Vincent’s fiery eyes, feeling like prey for the first time since he’d become a Turk. It should have made his defenses flare and his instincts fight to regain the upper hand but instead it made his body tremble in submission and want, as if finally he’d found the one worthy of yielding to. There was still fear, but now it was more a fear of rejection, of this beautiful, deadly man before him crushing what was left of his self respect into nothing but a memory.  
   
It _should_ have sickened him, the speed with which Tseng gave in to him, but it didn’t. Instead, a massive shudder wracked his body as he issued a low moan. Just what was happening here? Who was playing whom? Vincent’s mind was savage as it ran through countless scenarios that left him once again the victim. In the end, he too was nearly helpless to deny his own body’s cravings. Thirty years of dormant emotions; of dry, dusty needs gone unfulfilled came crashing down onto his shoulders, nearly knocking the breath out of him. Rising to his feet, he stood before Tseng, face emotionless, but crimson eyes sharp and shrewd. His eyes burned with tortured passion, reflecting all of the turmoil he had felt and undergone at his own hand.  
   
What did he feel? The answer was easy: nothing, no need to bond, to form a commitment, only his basic biological need to fuck. However, there was something else, something fleet and teasing that would warrant further thought at a time when his brain, now wracked by nearly out of control hormones, could function properly. He kissed Tseng then. Not the demanding, dominant kiss of before, but one borne more of that dying passion he thought he had lost. His lips were firm and commanding, clearly drawing the line between master and slave, but when he slid his tongue into Tseng’s mouth it was gentle, caressing. While his lips were occupied, his hand did not remain idle, instead taking up a firm stroking motion on the other man’s cock.  
   
When they broke apart, he was panting lightly, his lips curled up in a predatory grin. He nuzzled by Tseng’s ear. “You want me to take you?” he asked redundantly, voice made deeper and rougher by lust. “Where do you want me to take you? Are we going somewhere?”  
   
“W… what?” Tseng stuttered, his brain trying to decipher what Vincent had said through the fog of lust. Finally it sunk home and Tseng blushed, working out that he was being made fun of. “Bastard,” he muttered, trying for an angry tone but failing as his words ended up mixed with a moan. “Don’t you know… its bad manners to play with… your prey?” Tseng gasped, his hips moving in time with Vincent’s hand.  
   
With an eyebrow arching up slowly Vincent’s grin grew.  _Quick come back, very impressive._ His respect for Tseng rose a notch. “Perhaps,” he breathed, running his lips along Tseng’s jaw. “But I’m just a beast, remember? Manners mean nothing to me.” His hand ceased its stroking and traveled lower to slide in between Tseng’s thighs. Fingers within reach of the soft, tender flesh of Tseng’s ass, he pressed two just past the globes of the Turk’s buttocks and against the puckered ring of muscle. “But something tells me you enjoy being played with, am I right?” He nipped Tseng’s neck again, rubbing his fingers against Tseng’s opening. “Do you want something else right here?” He pressed a little more firmly, humming as he felt the reflexive clench of muscle. “Come now; use your words Tseng, ‘Head of the Turks’. What shall I place here instead of my fingers?”  
   
Tseng’s legs spread apart at the touch, trembling as he tried to hold them in place. “Y… your cock,” he whimpered, his hips trying to push down on the digits but failing with the limited movements he could manage. His legs twitched with the urge to lift and wrap around the ex-Turk’s waist, but he didn’t know if it was allowed and was too worried about doing something to cause Vincent to stop. “Please… oil in jacket pocket… please,” he added, head tilted to expose more of his neck in a show of submission he hoped would garner the mercy of Vincent at least using lube.  
   
“Hmph,” Vincent snorted softly, a faint note of scorn coloring his voice as he withdrew his hand. “Do you always carry such a convenience around with you?” He fell silent as he studied the flushed and panting face of the Director. Was the man’s controlreally _that_ weak? “Is it so easy to break you?” he murmured more to himself than to Tseng. This quick submission, this lack of fight in the face of sex was enough to break through his own slowly growing desire, though lessen it, it did not. Had the Turks really grown so infantile since his departure from the department, if this was the _best_ they could offer? He had known Veld, once, fleetingly at an intimate level, _knew_ how the man had worked; the _discipline_ he had commanded of those under him and this- this was not it.   
   
If what he had read of Sephiroth and the implications it meant towards his slowly formulating hypothesis of Geostigma, the Turks needed strength now, not this easy weakness. Still… this presented a unique situation. If he could get a hold of the Turks, put his _mark_ on them, his _control_ … their strength might yet be reclaimed.  
   
Stepping back he reached out and with one hand lifted Tseng off of the outcropping of rock and dropped the Director back onto his feet. He put his gauntleted hand on the man’s shoulder, steadying him as his gloved one went to his mantle and began to unbuckle it. A grin slowly formed on his face, dark and promising. “Then by all means, retrieve it Tseng, ‘Head of the Turks’.”  
   
Tseng glared, his bound hands managing to fumble the small bottle out of the inner pocket of his jacket. “The oil is not usually used for sex. I brought it in case any doors where jammed. Some of us aren’t augmented,” Tseng muttered. “As for being easy to break, the few times I have been captured, nobody has approached me quiet like you have.” Looking down at the oil bottle in his hands, Tseng frowned as the reality of the situation suddenly became all too clear as the blind lust began to ebb.  
   
Vincent paused in the removal of the mantle, the garment half-on, and raised an eyebrow. “With all the rotten wood in this place, one wouldn’t have to be ‘augmented’ to get a jammed door open.” He finished removing his mantle and tossed it against the wall. He stood in front of Tseng, his arms by his sides easily as he watched the Turk’s face. “As a Turk, you should be ready for anything, including ‘my type’ of advance.” He cocked his head, grin returning. “Does it bother you?”  
   
“No,” Tseng retorted immediately, his eyes lifting enough to look over all the now revealed leather before him. It was such a rare sight to see these days, Sephiroth and Genesis being the only other two people he’d ever seen in so much of it. “Isn’t it hot in that?” he asked, trying to cover for the fact that he couldn’t seem to pull his eyes away, Vincent’s steady gaze ensuring that his attention had been noted.  
   
“No,” Vincent breathed, reaching down to cup and rub briefly between his legs. “Temperatures don’t affect me like they do humans. It helps being dead.” He raised an eyebrow and his grin widened. “Are you going to use that, or just hold onto it for a while?” he asked, jerking his chin at the oil Tseng clutched in his hand.  
   
Tseng’s eyes had followed Vincent’s hand down, flicking back up to the gunman’s face when he’d mentioned the oil “What do you want me to do with it?” he asked, managing to keep his expression flat. He knew it was going to be used to ease penetration, not being completely ignorant of male on male sex, but he wasn’t sure why he’d need it if he was the one being fucked.  
   
 _Wait a minute_ , Vincent hesitated, suddenly cautious. Had Tseng even done this before? If not, then things just got very dangerous. The man’s desire was evident in the straining erection in front him, but Tseng’s question spoke far more tellingly than what his eyes now saw. He was in a precarious position now indeed if Tseng’s body was innocent to this kind of activity. He could gravely hurt the Turk, and a part of him, the dark part of him, seriously considered it. Likewise, if the Turk hadn’t done this before, he was put into a position where he could bind the man to him on a visceral level. On the other hand, Tseng could just be playing with him and the worst case scenario would end in Tseng’s broken neck. He decided to proceed very carefully.   
   
Better to err on the side of caution than blindly assume otherwise. “What do you think I want you to do with it?”  
   
“You want me to put it on you,” Tseng answered, shifting nervously. His eyes looked up at the gunman’s, trying to gauge where this was going and if he had been brought to this point just to be humiliated. “Why do you ask?”  
   
“Just making sure we’re clear,” Vincent replied, red gaze never wavering from the Director’s. “We wouldn’t want you to forget your place. The weak bows down for the strong, isn’t that right?”  
   
Tseng raised an eyebrow but didn’t reply, wondering just what the hell he was getting himself into. Walking over to stand in front of Vincent, he swallowed, feeling completely unprepared for what he was about to do. “You want me to do it here?” he asked, wondering if he sounded as stupid to the gunman as he did to himself.  
   
Vincent fought a chuckle. “Would you prefer we get a room?” he asked wryly, but before he could give Tseng a chance to reply he reached out and wrapped a hand around the back of Tseng’s neck and dragged the younger man in for a kiss. It was slow and deep and while he slid his tongue into Tseng’s mouth, he reached his gauntleted hand around to cup and squeeze Tseng’s firm, bare backside, much as he had before. When he pulled back he said huskily, “Yes, here, is that going to be a problem?”  
   
“N…no,” Tseng stuttered after the kiss, trying to ignore his flushed cheeks as he put the oil back into his pocket to free up both hands. Kneeling down he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and began undoing the two buckles in his way, his bound wrists not hampering him too much. Once they were done, he pulled down the zipper and paused, noting the black silk boxers he found underneath. “Hypocrite,” he murmured, slipping both hands through the window in the front and drawing out Vincent’s cock. It was a strange feeling to hold another man in his hands like this and Tseng couldn’t help but stare.  
   
The fingers of Vincent’s right hand twitched when he felt the warm slightly calloused skin of another touch his flesh, flesh he hadn’t felt himself in too long… too long! His vision narrowed to encompass only Tseng, on his knees and staring, and he couldn’t resist an equally soft, “Old habits, Tseng, ‘Head of the Turks’, old habits.” He then raised an elegant black brow and said wryly, “It’s not going to go away no matter how hard you stare at it.”  
   
“Ha, Ha,” Tseng retorted, releasing Vincent’s cock to retrieve the oil from his pocket. Flipping open the top, he squeezed some onto his hands, flipping the lid closed again and dropping it to the floor. Rubbing his hands together, he decided to just imitate what felt good on himself as he let both hands gently slide up and down Vincent’s length, coating it carefully with oil. He could only hope he was doing it correctly, but didn’t doubt the gunman would inform him if he wasn’t.  
   
Vincent hissed in a breath and gritted his teeth when he felt the pressure of Tseng’s fingers on his sex. A muscle twitched in his jaw and he couldn’t stop the small, involuntary thrust of his hips into the tentative contact. The other man’s touch alone told him what he needed to know: Tseng had never done this before. He struggled to keep that thought in mind as the intimate touch sent a shiver up his spine. He let his breath out slowly and his eyes rolled up as his lids shut. The fact that Tseng was virginal in this regard only served to arouse him even more. It was a rush of power, to know that he could either completely crush the other man, or give him exquisite pleasure. He opened his eyes and looked down, watching those manicured nails slide over his stiffened flesh.   
   
He reached out and gently touched Tseng’s face, his own unreadable. But his eyes didn’t lie and neither did his breathing. The other man was affecting him, and he was not ignorant to his own precarious position. The strong had their own weaknesses, and the trick was to not be overcome by them.  
   
Tseng looked up at the touch, concerned that he was doing something wrong but keeping his hands moving. One look into Vincent’s eyes told him otherwise, his own breath hitching as he found himself caught in the ruby gaze. Although he would never admit it out loud to the infuriating man, Vincent was beautiful and standing here, stroking his cock was enough to make Tseng moan. The head Turk would not allow himself to show that weakness though, choosing to speak instead. “Tell me when you want me to stop.”  
   
It was a fine idea, except for the fact that Vincent didn’t _want_ Tseng to stop. The Turk’s hands were too light and going too slow for him to get any kind of relief and he was getting harder with each stroke. It was more than enough and he stilled Tseng’s hands with one of his own. “That’s enough,” he said softly. “Stand up,” he instructed.  
   
Doing as he was told, Tseng moved his hands away and stood up, a little worried about what came next but too proud to ask. Instead he concentrated on keeping his eyes on Vincent’s face, refusing to let them drop down to the gunman’s exposed cock. Unfortunately, just thinking about it had his eyes betraying him and they flicked downwards before he could stop them.  
   
Vincent let him stare, watching Tseng watch his body. “Turn around.” When Tseng did, he stepped up behind the man and pulled Tseng’s pants up to enable him to walk. He then pulled off the Turk’s jacket and tossed it over against the wall with his mantle. “Now walk,” he ordered, picking up the oil and steering the Turk with gentle touches until they were in the abandoned study. Just in front of the desk, he pressed up against Tseng, sliding his gloved hand down inside Tseng’s pants to press fingers against the seam of Tseng’s buttocks. Bringing his mouth close to the Turk’s ear he breathed, “You’ve never felt a man like this before, have you?”  He pressed against Tseng’s entrance with his gloved finger; press and release, press and release, rubbing suggestively with his finger each time. “Are you nervous?”  
   
Tseng nearly lied, before common sense reminded him what was about to happen. He knew enough about the process to know that it could be very painful if Vincent wasn’t gentle. “No I haven’t and yes, I’m nervous,” he whispered, breath speeding up. Despite his fear, he wanted this to happen, his cock still hard and twitching in reaction to the teasing touches.


	4. Chapter 4

“You’re showing a remarkable amount of trust, Tseng,” Vincent murmured, withdrawing his hand and bringing his forearm to his mouth. Working the first buckle lose he unfastened it then pulled off his freed glove with his teeth. He took a moment to look at his pale hand and fought back the memories it caused to come forward. That was why he kept even his hands covered. Everything about him reminded him of his past, tore at his conscience and weakened whatever resolve he had carefully cultivated over the short years he had been awake. He made a fist, flexing his hand and relaxing the long fingers; once, twice, three times before he snapped out of it and maneuvered the oil in his gauntleted hand in order to flip open the cap of the oil and coat the first two fingers of his bare hand.   
   
“Drop your pants and bend over the table, Tseng.” Vincent directed, snapping the cap shut and tossing the oil onto the table.  
   
“You’re a true romantic, Valentine,” Tseng replied, letting his pants fall to the floor and stepping out of them. In the state his clothes were already in, there was no point in trying to save them from the dirt and dust on the floor. Taking a few steadying breaths, he leant forward, resting his hands on the table and exposing his backside to the gunman. A small part of him was screaming at him not to do this, to regain his pride and walk away, but Tseng ignored it, deciding it was long overdue. Besides, Vincent was beautiful and seemed to be merciful and considerate, when it came to sex at least.   Tseng was quite aware of the fact he could do far worse for his first time.  
   
“I didn’t exactly have time for chocolate and roses, or is exercising your sarcasm how you relax?” Vincent replied, wiping the majority of the oil from his fingers over Tseng’s puckered opening before giving a firm buttock a healthy swat. He was rewarded by the reverberating crack of flesh striking flesh, but it was a gentle blow all things considered, and it made him smile. He then replaced his fingers at Tseng’s anus and leaned over the man’s back to nuzzle just behind the Turk’s ear. “It would do you well to relax or this shall be more painful that it has to be, Director.” That was the only warning he gave before he pushed a finger past the tight ring of muscle.   
   
He could feel the reflexive clench of muscle around the digit and he pressed further. “Relax,” he breathed, bracing on his gauntleted arm upon the table so as not to press his full weight against the Turk’s back.  
   
“Roses would… have been nice,” Tseng hissed, eyes wide at the burning sensation from only one finger. Shit, Vincent’s cock was going to hurt. Shaking his head, he put aside the thought, making his body relax and falling back on his training. He was a Turk and pain was what he knew. Surprisingly, once his body did relax, the finger didn’t hurt anymore, instead leaving a strange, kind or uncomfortable feeling in its wake.  
   
“I never would have figured you to be a flowers man, Tseng,” Vincent replied wryly, but was relieved when he felt Tseng’s body relax around his finger. Now, to find that one spot… he curled his finger, probing deeper and sliding out, twisting it and curling again. He knew he found it when Tseng jumped and his grin widened. That was his cue to insert a second finger and curled them against it again. “Better? Or are you still having second thoughts?” he whispered, dropping his mouth to begin kissing and nibbling the Turk’s neck.  
   
“Shit,” Tseng gasped, his doubts melting away as his hips started moving of their own accord, pushing back in an attempt to feel it again. The idea of the gunman’s cock inside of him became more attractive with every thrust of Valentine’s fingers, his body not even protesting at all when a third finger was added. Somehow he’d ended up on his forearms instead of his hands, but he made no attempt to straighten back up, the angle much better from this position.  
   
Tseng’s reactions were telling Vincent it was time to take it to the next level and he withdrew his fingers. He pushed himself up off of Tseng, grasped his cock and pressed slowly into Tseng’s relaxed opening. There was resistance at first but after he got the head of his cock into the Turk’s body it became easier and Vincent gave a low, soft moan as the tight, dry heat enveloped and squeezed him. Spreading his legs for a more stable position, he moved his hands to Tseng’s hips and stood still a moment to allow the man’s body to adjust. When he felt Tseng relax the rest of the way he began to thrust slowly in long, sure strokes that had his eyes falling shut and his grip on Tseng’s hips tightening.  
   
To be taken by Vincent wasn’t anything like Tseng had imagined. His walls of stone had cracked enough to let the gunman in, to let this happen, but now they crumbled as his body was overcome. He’d known for many years that he preferred men to women, but his job had prevented him from ever exploring the possibility and when he had imagined it, Tseng had never thought of being bottom. To have Vincent inside of him, making him feel alive for the first time in years was confusing, intense and more than a little overwhelming. Any possibility of keeping up his Turk appearance of coldness was gone and Tseng was left moaning in pleasure while his hands scrambled for purchase on the desktop. “Don’t… stop,” he gasped desperately.  
   
Vincent had absolutely no intention whatsoever of stopping. He did however release the grip his right hand had on Tseng’s hip to slide it up under the Turk’s white dress shirt. He found that he rather enjoyed the feel of the smooth, warm skin under his hand, and the way Tseng’s muscles bunched and slid just under the surface. Up his hand ran until it came to rest at the base of Tseng’s neck, under the strait black hair that was coming free of its tie. So re-positioned, Vincent pressed down with that hand, pinning Tseng to the table and increased the speed and force of his thrusts. His enhanced strength buoyed his stamina and very quickly the only sounds in the decrepit study were their harsh pants, Tseng’s moans and the rapid, rhythmic slapping of flesh upon flesh.   
   
Nearly all of Vincent’s higher brain activity had ceased in favor of his baser instincts to rut. The only thing he could focus on was the tightness around his dick and the slowly building pressure that heralded an impending orgasm, tightening his balls and making his thighs and buttocks tingle. This, was _good_.  
   
The hand pressing down on the base of Tseng’s neck, trapping him against the desk, should have caused panic and made his self defense instincts kick in. Instead, Tseng found it only added to the pleasure as something inside of him craved the domination it represented. Before he could even process his own submission, all thoughts where washed away in a wave of bliss, his orgasm crashing over him with a force that left him seeing spots before his eyes, fighting for breath that wouldn’t come. As his vision came back and his thoughts realigned, he could hear a strange whimpering sound and was surprised to discover it was coming from his own lips.  
   
It was the combination of seeing the Turk’s body stiffen and twitch, and the soft sounds of submission that finally drove Vincent over the edge. In a final couple of thrusts, his jaw clenched with every muscle in his abdomen flexing, he buried himself into Tseng’s body as he came. He held perfectly still has he felt his cock swell, then empty as his own completion came and went, leaving his body spent and his brain fuzzy. Gently he withdrew from the Turk’s body and rolled the man over. He pushed Tseng back so that the other man had to sit on the desk before he lay down.   
   
Now Vincent took a moment to really _see_ the Turk before him. Tseng’s hair had come free and the shoulder-length wealth of black hair was a dark cloud around the pale face. Black eyes rimmed by darker lashes peered up at him as he let his own blood-colored gaze travel down the Turk’s lean frame. He reached out his gloveless hand and pushed the ruined white shirt open and off of the man’s chest, creating an unimpeded view of Tseng’s nude torso. He let his fingers brush over the flesh that his eyes scrutinized, his own face completely blank of expression as he traced one of Tseng’s dark, pebbled nipples with white, ghost-like fingers.   
   
He was entranced, hypnotized by the beauty in front of him, the gift that was life that everyone around him seemed to take for granted. What he would give to have that life again.   
   
He frowned when his gaze traveled down and was caught by the faint scar on Tseng’s abdomen. He touched it lightly. Sephiroth. Here was proof again that both friend and foe had been touched by the Demon of Wutai, and had not escaped unscathed.  Reverently, Vincent leaned forward and brushed his lips over that telling scar. How had he missed it the first time? Had he been so bent on proving something to Tseng that this mark had escaped him? Rising back up, he took in the rest of the Turk’s body, from the defined muscles of the man’s stomach to the points of Tseng’s hipbones to the soft black curls of Tseng’s pubic hair.   
   
He reached out and gently ran his fingers over Tseng’s softening cock. This man was his, whether the Turk realized it or not. “Am I forgiven for forgetting the roses then?” he asked softly, stroking Tseng’s thigh and peering down at the man from under heavy black bangs. He couldn’t help it, it just came out.  
   
“Definitely,” Tseng answered softly, smirking up at the gunman. Vincent looking over him like this had a strange effect on the Turk. Usually, he would be uncomfortable to be so exposed and would have moved to cover his nudity, but somehow this was different. Somehow, it felt right. He knew immediately that his own mind was wandering into dangerous territory so he tried to still it, instead memorizing the man before him, knowing that he would never have this moment again. Valentine hated Shinra, and by extension hated Tseng who would always be a part of it. This moment was just an anomaly, a fracture in both of their realities.  
   
Vincent just continued to stare at Tseng, finger idly playing over the skin of Tseng’s upper thigh, face expressionless once again. What had just happened here? When had they gone from nearly killing each other to these strange expressions and feelings? The longer he looked at the mostly naked man in front of him, exposed, vulnerable… open, the more his chest hurt. Old, dusty memories arose like dust motes on a sudden breath of wind to dance in front of his eyes: Veld’s merry hazel eyes and easy laugh, Lucrecia’s giggle and shy smile. When had he stopped feeling? Stopped caring and only existed? Had he turned away so quickly from his humanity? Did he even have enough left to turn away from?   
   
He had gone into this intending to fuck Shinra, to get a stab back at the man and company that had ruined his life and betrayed him, taken Veld and Lucrecia away from him by murder and madness. What better way to do that than break the Director of the department he had sworn his loyalty, his life to? But it hadn’t happened that way had it. Somehow the predator had turned into the prey, and now the predator was struggling to hold onto the illusion of control. But Tseng was just as much a victim as he, wasn’t he? Enslaved and enthralled by the same fanatical devotion and loyalty that he had once had himself. He clenched his jaw against the unwanted thoughts that ripped through his mind. Well, regardless of what he now felt and thought he was taking what was his.   
   
Leaning up and over Tseng, Vincent wrapped his hand around Tseng’s throat, holding the man down, and raised his gauntlet. Holding it in front of both of their faces, he made sure Tseng saw it before he lowered it, and with one bladed claw he carved a “V” into the flesh of the Turk’s right pectoral, just above one dark nipple, his lips sliding apart in a slightly feral grin.  
   
Tseng hissed at the pain, trying to struggle out from underneath the ex-Turk with his eyes wide. The sudden fear that Valentine might kill him now he had found his release surged to the forefront of his thoughts, making his face blush with the shame of how he’d just allowed himself to be used. His attempts at escape were pathetic, Vincent’s strength so far beyond Tseng’s that he finally allowed his body to go limp, staring up into blood red eyes that frightened him for so many conflicting reasons. “What the fuck are you doing?” he demanded, words the only weapon he had left to hide behind.  
   
“What am I doing?” Vincent whispered, pulling his gauntlet away from Tseng’s chest slowly. Tseng’s thick ruby-colored blood coated the blade of the digit he had used for his work, and he wiped it clean on what was left of Tseng’s shirt. Leaving his hand around the Turk’s throat, knowing full well that if he were to let go, the man would be at him with everything he had, Vincent leaned down to rest his lips against one of Tseng’s pale ears. “I’ve marked you,” he breathed, gently kissing the shell of the ear he spoke into.   
   
“You will not use a Cure on this. You will let it heal naturally and every time you stand naked before your mirror and see this mark you will know who it is that owns you. When you lie alone in your bed you will remember who you let into your body, and you will remember my touch. I own you, Tseng, ‘Head of the Turks’, and you know it. You let me in, and you loved every minute of it.” Grinning against Tseng’s cheek, he then slid down the Turk’s body to slowly lick up the blood that had begun to trickle down the man’s chest.  
   
“O… own me?” Tseng stuttered, his mind reeling as he tried to process Vincent’s words. His confusion was a raw ache in his chest, the implications of Valentine’s words throwing hope and longing into his automatic reaction of disgust at being treated as an item, a thing to be possessed. The arrogance of those words fired up his abused pride, making him want to scoff and taunt the gunman’s overrated opinion of his own importance… but he said nothing. His lips opened and closed, the words waiting and ready, but refusing to be spoken. Frowning in frustration, Tseng could only lay still, muscles taught in his distress as he tried to argue with his own mind. He didn’t want to be owned… did he?  
   
Finally his thoughts stilled to an odd kind of acceptance, more disturbing to him than anything he’d ever experienced before. The anger was still there but now it was directed at himself more than the man before him. “I already have an owner, Vincent. Or have forgotten Shinra?” he whispered, eyes fixed on the ceiling above him.  
   
“You serve Shinra out of honor and pride. It was your choice, as it had been mine, to put on that collar,” Vincent replied simply, standing back up and licking his lips. “Just as it is your choice to remove it or leave it in place. But I’ve taken the choice from you. Your body has betrayed you and your mind will follow suit. You could have continued to fight me, but you didn’t. I gave you what you wanted. I gave you a master, until you find the strength to realize what it is you want and to fight for it.” Carefully he closed Tseng’s shirt over his exposed chest, blood from Tseng’s new wound seeping through the material right before his eyes. He felt a brief stab of guilt, but it was gone before it could cause him panic.   
   
Gripping the Turk’s arms he pulled Tseng into a sitting position before kneeling to retrieve the man’s discarded pants after first tucking himself back into his own leathers and refastening the buckles. Standing again he reached out and tilted Tseng’s chin up so that he could stare into the Turk’s black eyes. “Keep your pride and your honor, but don’t you ever forget what happened here.”  
   
 _Pride and honor…_ Did he even have any left after this? Tseng could only gaze back at Vincent, all the aches and pains of his body’s abuse tingling back to life and making him feel so very tired and beaten. “I…,” he began, losing his train of thought as a sharp pain from his backside made him wince. Yes, he would be remembering this for quiet some time to come.   
   
“What is it you want from me?” he finally asked, his voice only a whisper but easily heard in the silence of the room.  
   
Vincent jerked his hand back from Tseng’s face as though burned. Had there been any color in his own he would have lost it. As it was it was a miracle he could even keep his face straight. What did he want? What was the purpose of all of that? The fact that in the end he was no better than Shinra was a razored barb in his soul. He’d just told Tseng to keep his pride and his honor, but how could the man do that when he was the one who had just stripped it away in the worst way possible? He took a step back from Tseng, then another and another. Yet another sin he had to atone for. What had he done? What a selfish, hypocritical and arrogant bastard he had been. Could he even say anything to that question?    Did he even want to?   
   
He turned away from Tseng and said over his shoulder softly, “Get dressed.”  
   
He left the room and walked over to his mantle and Tseng’s jacket. He paused before reaching down to pick them up and dug into his pocket to pull out a pink ribbon. Marlene had given them each one to wear in memory of Aerith, and he stared down at it now. “What’s wrong with me, Aerith?” he whispered to it, running his bare thumb over the material. He had never felt worthy enough to put it on, and he felt even more removed from that now. He thought back to a late night talk he had had with her around a fire when everyone else had gone to sleep just a short two years ago. Before her death.   
   
He had admitted to her that he didn’t know how he could go on existing feeling the way he did and she had replied with a giggle, “You live, silly. It’s the best way you can honor those who have lost their own.” He hadn’t understood then, and had said as much; inquiring after the living in an attempt to clarify his own confusion. Aerith’s response had been one of her beautiful smiles as she held up a finger and said, one green eye squeezed shut, “Then help them live better.”   
   
He still didn’t understand and he brought the ribbon up to his lips as he made a solemn, silent promise to try to learn before he could destroy anything else… including himself. Ribbon clutched in his bare hand he picked up his mantle and Tseng’s jacket in his gauntleted one, and returned to the study and the bitter pain and anger he was sure he would find directed at him. He deserved it.  
   
Tseng was even more confused by Vincent’s reaction, not sure why his words had caused the gunman so much distress. When he was left alone, he slowly slipped his pants back on, leaning back on the desk and trying to digest all that had occurred. The ex-Turk talked of ownership but wanted nothing from him. People always wanted something… didn’t they?   
   
He looked up in surprise when Vincent came back, wondering why he’d returned until he saw his own jacket in the ex-Turk’s claw. The fact it was being returned to him only confused him more, the act one of consideration that he hadn’t thought Vincent would extend to him. “Thank you,” he murmured, holding out his hand to take it from the older man.  
   
A flash of pink caught his eye and he glanced at the ribbon held in Vincent’s other hand, noticing it was the same one both Cloud and Tifa wore and curious as to its meaning. “Vincent, may I ask what the ribbon symbolizes?” he asked, eyes flicking up to the ex-Turk’s.  
   
The sudden shift from beaten acceptance to curiosity in place of anger and accusation made Vincent wary, and he looked down at the ribbon as though seeing it for the first time. He was so thrown off that he answered openly and honestly. “Aerith,” he said softly. “We were given these ribbons in memory of Aerith. The others wear them, but I- I can’t.”  
   
“Why not?” Tseng asked, eyes moving back to the ribbon. “You were one of the people she loved… part of her family. Is there a reason you don’t want to remember her in this way?”  
   
Vincent’s thumb traced over the ribbon and his face became sad. “Because everything she stood for went against everything that I am…” he sighed softly, “… and everything that I once was. I’m sure you can relate.”  
   
Tseng chuckled a little, eyes distant as he remembered his own times with Aerith. “You and I both know what she would say to that,” he said, smiling sadly. “She never was one to judge and loved without prejudice. You should wear it… honor her and remember her as she deserves.” He reached forward tentatively, pulling the ribbon from Vincent’s fingers and tying it around his arm slowly, hoping he wasn’t pushing things too far but certain it was the right thing to do.  
   
Eying the ribbon and then the Turk that had tied it to his upper forearm, above the buckles, he said wryly, “I never thought I would hear that from a Turk.”   But he made no move to take it off.  
   
Smile wide, Tseng pulled his hands back to his lap and looked up at Vincent. “Well, maybe you don’t know all Turks as well as you think you do. I knew Aerith for a long time and even though she knew of my sins and saw some first hand, she was kind to me. She was… a rare person of value, especially in this world.”  
   
“Yes she was,” Vincent murmured, stepping back and moving over to retrieve his glove from the table where he had dropped it. He was silent as he slipped it back onto his hand and refastened the buckle that held it in place. He flexed his hand as he stared down at it, feeling comforted by the worn leather and yet strangely sad. “Times have changed indeed if Turks have grown a sense of conscience,” he said softly.  
   
“Times change, we adjust… it is just the way of things,” Tseng murmured offhandedly, pulling his eyes away from Vincent form. His gaze kept being drawn back but he knew it was not welcome so he found a spot on the wall to stare at, feeling foolish for his continued weakness when it came to the gunman. There were many things he wanted to ask, questions that begged to be answered but he simply couldn’t find the strength to voice them. He knew he should be more worried about his failed mission but for now, it mattered little to other thoughts spinning in his mind.  
   
“Mm,” Vincent grunted, wandering over to stand facing one of the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves in the study, empty now except for dust. He reached up and rested a hand on the shelving. His time here was coming to a close. He would leave soon; he felt the pull, the desire to do so, acutely.  _Times change, we adjust… it is just the way of things._  “The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” he whispered, studying the back of his hand. He felt, beaten, worn down and tired. His own weakness had been thrown into his face and it would require time to reflect upon. He needed a place to go; somewhere he could be alone... but first things first.   
   
"Two thousand years ago, a meteor slammed into the Northern Continent of this planet." Vincent said softly, trailing a newly gloved finger over the dusty bookshelf it had been resting upon. He could feel Tseng’s eyes on him and didn’t really care, or did he? "The effect on the planet's ecosystem was catastrophic, and a group of Cetra were sent to investigate it. There they found not only the remains of the meteor, but an unknown biological alien organism near its core; a parasite that had somehow managed to survive the impact. Before they truly realized what is was they had found, a woman had had direct contact with the organism and the parasite began to consume her.   
   
“The effect upon the Cetra was nearly as catastrophic as the meteor’s impact upon the planet and the surviving Cetra finally managed to seal this new creature away but not before their civilization had been nearly obliterated." Vincent's eyes were unfocused and his voice was resonant and distant, as though in a dream. "The irony is that what happened to that Cetra woman is not unlike what is happening with myself and Chaos. But the long and short of it is that what we are seeing now with Geostigma is simply history repeating itself, and unless we can find a cure then we too shall die." It was a collective “we”, but he didn’t bother to correct himself. He would continue to live regardless of what happened to the rest of the planet’s inhabitants.  
   
He turned around and met Tseng’s eyes, the man's expression unreadable. "The only thing that I'm afraid of is that it may be up to the planet in the end to determine if her children are worthy of surviving this new plague. But where we differ from the Cetra is that we are children of science where they were children of magic, and science just may be what saves us. That is why if there are any remains of Jenova left, then you must find them."  
   
The trust Vincent had shown him by giving him this information wasn’t lost on the Turk, though he couldn’t work out why the gunman had suddenly decided to co-operate with him. “Do you have any ideas of where we could look? All of Hojo’s laboratories and any other buildings he had access to have already been scoured and nothing has been found. The only reason I came here was out of desperation, thinking that maybe the others had missed something.”  
   
Vincent raised an eyebrow. “I’m rather shocked that you had to ask me that, Tseng, ‘Head of the Turks’.” He crossed his arms over his chest and eyed the man in front of him. “Think. What was the whole reason we know about Jenova in the first place?”  
   
“Sephiroth… which would mean the Northern Crater,” Tseng mused, looking down at the floor so his brain could focus on his mission instead of what had just occurred. “I suppose it is possible there may be something left that could be of use to the scientists… it is worth a look, if nothing else.” He glanced back up, meeting Vincent’s eyes. “Thank you for the information.”  
   
Inclining his head, Vincent walked back to the desk that the Turk continued to lean against and scrutinized the man before shaking out his mantle, swinging it back over his shoulders and buckling it closed.  Impulsively he reached out and traced Tseng’s cheek with his fingers once, murmuring, “Be careful. The Northern Crater is a dangerous place. Get in and get out.” He then blinked, dropping his hand and with a final nod he turned and began his journey back to the surface.  
   
Tseng watched him go in silence, unable to say any of the things that tried to come forth from his lips. Everything seemed so surreal now, even with his various injuries reminding him of the truth and his battered appearance confirming the reality. He sat for a few minutes were he was, pulling himself together enough to stand and retrieve the rest of his belongings that had been scattered around. Both his main and back up gun were soon found, his ruined boxers shoved into a pocket but his hair band was nowhere to be found. Sighing, he left it behind, to weary to worry about a single elastic as he ran his hands through his hair and walked out the door, a little angry at not having the bravery to ask what he really wanted to before Vincent had left.  
   
Walking down the tunneled hallway, he was surprised to come across Vincent once more, the gunman seemingly lost in thought as he stood in the doorway of another room, staring at a coffin lying in the center with a blank expression. Being presented with a second chance to ask, pushed Tseng to approach, stopping a few feet away and trying to phrase the question of ‘why?’ and ‘will I see you again?’ into a coherent sentence. Unfortunately, words were not Tseng’s specialty and the pain in his chest from the carved V ended up taking precedence.  
   
“You marked me… do I get to return the gesture?” he murmured, sarcasm making a comeback when it was least needed as his frustration with his own inabilities surfaced.  
   
 _Times change, we adjust... it is just the way of things’, is that what I’m doing? Adjusting_? Vincent thought as he stood there in the doorway of his old prison, staring down at the purple wood and velvet box that had been his bed for thirty years while he hid away from the world and all its pain. Silence hung heavy between them as Tseng’s question went unanswered.  _The strong shall live and force the weak to submit or die, but isn’t it the weak, with their crafty, sly minds that ultimately hold sway over the strong? And so the balance is always shifting, changing and redefining itself so that the lines are forever blurred. Perhaps- perhaps it is the weak that gives the strong their strength_. Vincent gave a thoughtful smile at that and snorted a silent chuckle.  He looked over his shoulder at Tseng from the corner of his eye as he gathered his strength to teleport, and said softly, “You already have, Tseng.” And with a crackle of energy, he disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So concludes "Fractured", the first installment of the Salvaged Fate Trilogy. Vincent and Tseng's story will continue in "Broken", where Vincent begins to come to grips with his newly awakened emotions in regards to a captured enemy and Tseng is saved by the last person he expected.


End file.
